lykomancer: (Sweet Smile- Itachi)
For two weeks, my boss scheduled me for opens. I'm 99% diurnal now. Let's see how long this lasts. (Although, to be honest? I do actually feel more energetic now. I'm usually up by 8:30 and bored enough to go for epic, hours-long walks by 10:30.)

Today I:
-- walked to the utility company (2.5 mile round trip) and scheduled power for our new apartment
-- got alcohol for tinctures
-- returned my library books
-- did the dishes
-- did my laundry
-- took the trash out
-- finished The Twelve
-- did my pre-algebra "homework"
-- got transportation money
-- planned out moving with Jinya
-- made tinctures
-- wrote a few paragraphs on my Dragonlance novel

As for my doctor's visit the other week, my bloodwork came back normal. I have to schedule a new appointment, but I need to refile for MinnesotaCare first...especially since I got my $1,700 bill today. Jesus H.


Currently steeping:
Dandelion tincture
Cleavers tincture
Wild violet infused oil.

Pic! )

Health

May. 14th, 2013 09:07 pm
lykomancer: (Sweet Smile- Itachi)
My brain is mush from today's crazy heat; I feel drowsy and warm and nonfunctional.

Went to the doctor's.
Doctor listened to me.
Wrote me a prescription for Celexa for my depression. (It's a new drug for me, so it may or may not work, but it's worth trying.)
Ordered a mess of bloodwork done.
No, seriously, they took like seven vials of the stuff.
Scheduling an ultrasound in the next month to scout for cysts.

Yay.
*flag wave*
lykomancer: (Best that We Can Hope For)
Fuck it; I'm going to the doctor's tomorrow anyway.* I am tired of fucking bleeding, and I am tired of Jinya assuming I'm perpetually anemic (even though I'm almost certainly not).


I got a copy of Kiss My Math from the library and am starting to work my way through it. You may make fun of my for using a pre-teenager's book to teach myself math I should have learned in middle school, but at least I am trying to fix the problem.


I've been tracking my nutrition and exercise online. Jinya wants to get a Fitbit, and I think that's a nifty idea and would like to, too, so while I contemplate spending the money on tech I don't need, I'm establishing myself on a website that can link with Fitbit in the future.

I'm a bit weirded out by the fact that it keeps insisting I eat more. Even now that I've corrected my eating habits from coffee and a bowl of instant ramen noodles to three actual meals with grains and veggies and fruit and shit, the website insists that I'm supposed to be ingesting another 500 calories or so.
ಠ_ಠ
What the fuck.


We're signing the lease on the apartment tonight.


I really need a bottle of vodka to start my tinctures soon. I could get dandelion, cleavers, nettles, mullein, and probably motherwort started anytime now.






* I can always file for MNCare to cover previous visits up to three months afterward if they accept me, and I think they almost certainly will once I reapply with my lease included.

:(

May. 11th, 2013 01:47 pm
lykomancer: (Older sucks)
Nope, no doctor for me.

I apparently make too much money for MinnesotaCare.
You know, working part-time and earning less than a dollar over minimum wage.
lykomancer: (Head-Tilt?)
Of course, I actually ate today, which probably helped.

(Fun cycle: depression = low appetite = low blood sugar = lousy mood and lack of energy...if I didn't have that already simply from being depressed. If it can't get you one way, it gets you another.)

Sent in my application for Minnesota Care. Have the name of a doctor who sounds decent. Will make appointment as soon as possible.

I've been looking into PCOS pre-emptively-- maybe I don't have it, sure, but I'd rather be well-informed just in case-- and one of the suggestions a few books recommend is a low GI diet to help off-set weight gain and hypoglycemia. Overall, that seems like something I could do once I have my own kitchen.
lykomancer: (Sold the World)
Have now spent over a week being strangled by depression. Mornings start okay-ish, but by eight pm I'm a ball of emotional agony-- touchy and snappish and constantly sobbing.

I filed for Minnesota Care. Jinya thinks she's found me a decent doctor and at this point I'm ready to claw at someone's face to get their attention anyway. I want medication...but just as much, I want the validation of a medical professional saying, "Yes, there's a reason you are this way."


The only thing I'm really proud of right now is my savings-- that is, I have some. I've been doing the 52 week savings plan since the 1st of the year and throwing in my SPIFF bonuses from every check on top of it.

This is the most money I've ever managed to save, and it's a little depressing to realize that, in the course of five months, I've only managed to save up half as much as I'd need to buy a nice new bike.

I've gotten really weird about it, though. I guess it's a form of control, like dieting for my finances. Originally, I was going to let myself take my SPIFF back out if I wanted some extra cash, but now I'm really resistant to the idea.

On top of this, I'm also pulling out $150 every paycheck for upcoming rent and moving costs. Right now, it's not unusual for me to pull out 60-75% of each paycheck just for savings. All of the rest-- every drop-- goes for food and transportation to work.


I haven't invested any money in stuff I need to do my herbal projects. I have a hard time rationalizing the expenditure. (Especially with snow still on the ground.) Will I actually be able to sell anything I make and re-coop ANY of the money? Just the containers alone-- the tins and bottles-- can add up to quite a bit, and that's not including the base oils and alcohols, the jars and cheesecloth, the labels, etc.
lykomancer: (Default)
Internally-- emotionally, psychologically-- I'm a mess.

It's not new. It's the same old mess. But right now it feels like it's reached a head, one long, epic clusterfuck of issues like a fifty mile traffic jam.

I don't feel like I belong in human society. I feel alien, like I'm so different as to be incomprehensible to others. Whatever I want, it's strange; whatever I prefer is odd. Every think I do, every choice I make, feels judged or picked over or questioned. I feel defensive about everything. I always feel like I need to justify myself-- what I think, what I do, what I want.


And right now I'm so frustrated because I compare myself to Jinya, who works three jobs uncomplainingly, manages her complicated finances decently enough to pay all her bills and always have cash for movies and dinner and still bring up her credit score, has a new car, does yoga and goes running, is generally upbeat or reasonable, goes out to dinner with coworkers and is always getting hit on...

I know she's got problems too. I know. I of all people know best.

But overall? I feel like a loser. Well, more of a loser. I already felt like one, but compared to my roommate I look pathetic.


I don't particularly like myself. In fact, I don't understand why I should.
lykomancer: (Exhausted- Ed)
I sort of hate the sudden onset of spring. While everyone else is cheerfully exclaiming, "Isn't it beeeeyyyuuutiful!? and sighing like they've finally reached orgasm, I'm restless and short-tempered and weepy. Oh, and half the time I feel like I'm baking inside of my own skin, which absolutely no one understands; about a third of the people I meet are still cold, and everyone else is happy.

Fuckers.

In a few weeks, I'll adjust better. After all, the weather shifted from 45 to 75/80 in about 36 hours, and my body really doesn't like abrupt changes like that. In a few weeks, there will be leaves on the trees and thus some shade instead of blaring sunlight that feels like it's searing my translucent skin to a nice, crispy, well-done consistency.

In a few weeks, I'll be packing and moving. I'll have stuff to do and a lot to think about. I'll be re-experiencing the joys of having my own place, of having space in the fridge for my food, of not living in a cluttered shit-hole.

But right now I'm miserable.

The house is so damn cluttered that even if I began packing what little I have in my room-- most is still in storage from when we moved here, so packing up should only take me a few hours, tops-- there's no where to put the boxes. No where.

The warm weather makes me feel sweaty and nauseous, but also restless, fidgety, obligated to go somewhere and do something so that I don't waste these few temperate days that exist between our frigid, icy winter and tropically hot, humid summer. But I don't know what to do. My piece o' shit bike is still up where I can't get it even if I wanted to ride it. I do go for walks, but they're unsatisfying. There's nothing green yet anywhere except for a few sprouts and a little grass, not even dandelions yet. I go for walks in bare sunlight in empty woods, bored and unfulfilled.


Food, body, weight issues. Trigger warning if this topic is upsetting for you. )

I really want to see a doctor. I need to get on state insurance first. I want to ask about my non-stop periods and hypoglycemia and weight and depression and bad reactions to birth control and non-reactions to anti-depressants.
lykomancer: (Older sucks)
Well, since Jinya was playing Dragon Age, I replayed Dragon Age for my third complete play-through. Rogue female dwarf noble instead of male elf mage.

Now I'm replaying DAII. I've replayed it a few times, trying and trying and trying to get a romance with Fenris, but I was never successful, and so I never played past the middle of Act 2 other than on my very first play-through. So this is only going to be my second time completing this game.

All of this is to say: I have an inappropriate attraction to Varric. Yeah, Fenris is totally hot in that dark, broody elven way and his voice is pure sex. And Isabella is a freaking pirate queen in thigh-high boots, flaunting amazing cleavage. (Anders was attractive in Awakenings, when he was cute and chipper and witty...but by II he's just such a downer.)

But Varric is tasty even though that body type isn't my usual. My god. That jaw, that coat, that chest hair. The earrings. That particular vocal creak. And unlike all the other main male characters, Varric is sane, compulsive liar or not.

Angry!post

Apr. 23rd, 2013 01:05 pm
lykomancer: (Default)
The American idea of romantic love is bullshit. Romantic love is nothing more than oxytocin and dopamine and serotonin and sex hormone poisoning. It's a form of socially sanctioned mental illness, and we're told that it's the Solution to all our problems and if we're not experiencing it then we're hollow, empty, lonely people.

I can accept arguments for philia or agape or storge, but this thoroughly modern idea of idealized romantic attachment, or soul mates, is nonsense. It's the same destructive, untenable horseshit as the social pressure to be thin, or the belief in the Horatio Alger myth.

Yes, I think I might like to date. I'd definitely like to have sex again. But I also just want to be left the fuck alone, because I hate people and I don't really want to deal with them and their issues. Spending time with someone new sounds exhausting and exasperating.

I'm vaguely disgusted at the idea of dating someone my own age or older. Hypocritical? I suppose, but it's extremely rare for me to find anyone over the age of 30 that I find sexually attractive. They don't seem like my peers. They seem old. I don't like myself for saying that, but... Well.

I can't stand even listening to someone talk about their children or ex-spouse. It instantly sinks a blade into my libido and kills it dead. No, I don't entirely know why. No, I can't justify it. But somehow it's emotionally revolting. And the older I get the less likely I am to find someone who hasn't had kids or been married previously.

And people with whom I do have things in common? Too often I feel sickening envy and the rage that accompanies that-- and I mean the soul-shaking, pit-of-stomach nausea-inducing, "I'd rather tear your eyes out with my bare hands than look at you" rage and envy. Hate is not a strong enough word. Murderous comes close, at least.

And I hate the happy, socially-normal little fucks that laugh and blow me off when I slip and mention anything like this. I hate the eyeroll and condescending, "Of COURSE you want to get married" followed by a dismissal because they don't want to deal with my issues and I probably just said it for attention anyway. It's not like I could mean it.

I know this is all my own problem. I know. But I hate the fucking dismissal, like everyone wants the same thing and that anyone who feels or thinks differently is lying.
lykomancer: (Zuko Drama and WTFry)
So... A week ago, Jinya and I looked at an apartment, liked it, applied for it, and were accepted the next day. Jinya even saw one of our future landlords out at a restaurant; he said hi and asked if she got the good news that they accepted our applications.

But here's the problem.

We've been trying to get ahold of them to ask when they want they deposit and a few other questions since yesterday...and haven't gotten in touch yet. Five phone calls and one email-- no answer. I can't leave a voice mail because the box is full, and we only have the number and email for one of the two guys.

At this point, we're both getting antsy. (Jinya more so, but I'm dealing with minor anxiety myself. I'm trying to tell myself that it's only been 24 hours, that maybe he's on vacation, or in the hospital, or some emergency came up, or...) But the truth is that it's making us really nervous that we haven't managed to get ahold of them yet.
lykomancer: (Exhausted- Ed)
So, Jinya separated some of her gerbils because they were fighting.

We came home this evening to find that the cats had knocked over one of the cages.

It gets graphic from here out, kids. )

If I'm very lucky, I won't have to kill another gerbil tonight.
lykomancer: (Live Life with no Sorrow)
-- We seem to have found an apartment at long last. (The idea originally was to buy a trailer or house, but anything that gets us out of Jinya's mom's house is, at this point, progress.) Downstairs duplex, with a front porch and concrete deck area out back; one car garage; huge open kitchen (with dishwasher); hardwood floors and massive closets. $650 per month plus utilities, starting in June. Annnnnnd they'll let us take the cats-- with NO deposit or pet rent mentioned at all!

It feels unreal so far, but when I do think about it, I get a little worried about finances. I know it's affordable...but part of me's still nervous and the rest of me is unconvinced that this is actually happening.


-- Work tomorrow is going to be INSANE.
Inventory
Truck delivery
New ad to set
Our company website will be down
The alpaca convention in town has a HUGE rush order in
oh, and it's Saturday, so there will also be customers everywhere.
We're fucking boned.
T__T



-- Replayed Dragon Age for the first time in a year, trying to do as much different as possible from my first playthroughs. Man, Alistair gets super bitchy toward you if you let Loghain live! Hahahahahahah! But Loghain is kind of awesome. He quickly became my new BFF. I wish it was possible to have him join your party sooner so that you could play with him more.



-- Drawing my characters a bit more again, since I got a new sketchpad. I'm thinking of getting a huge 18x24 pad and consolidating a bunch of information and sketches onto large infographic-style posters of various characters, beasts, landscapes, etc., that I can hang up around my room. I think that'd be kinda cool.



-- Jinya gave me an entire gluten-free pizza. I have eaten half of it. I am too full to take another bite, but I'm holding another piece anyway; I am rolling in the ecstasy of having too much food. I love having too much food, it occurs to me. I've never properly starved, but I've had enough food shortages in my life that I can occasionally get weird about having food. Not hoarding-level, but minor, sporadic gluttonousness.
lykomancer: (Best that We Can Hope For)
Now, five years later, I occasionally find myself missing Randy.

Odd.

Time's worn down all the edges.

I can remember being angry with him and feeling frustrated with the shit he pulled, but I struggle to remember the majority of what actually pissed me off. (There are a few notable exceptions.)

The sex was very, very good.

My fonder memories of spending time with him have that smooth gloss of nostalgia: watching MST3K; the week-long submarine sandwich and hotdog feasts; hanging out at cafes; playing catch with a football in the park.

It felt like I was with him such a long time. In truth, it was only a little over a year.

If he hadn't been so antagonistic, or I so short-tempered, then maybe the differences between us wouldn't have mattered as much...but we were and they did. Besides, he never loved me. He denied that we were ever dating.


And I'm disappointed to realize that, five years later, my life is in worse shape than it was then. I have gone nowhere in five years. I've stagnated.

Blah.

Apr. 2nd, 2013 11:15 am
lykomancer: (Exhausted- Ed)
I don't know if this is physical depression with none of the mental static or some sub-symptomatic infection I'm fighting off, or what, but I feel like re-heated sludge.

I'm not actually sick. I have a little bit of nasal drain and a slight moderate nasty cough despite having only smoked one cigarette in over a week, but that's not real sickness. What I do have is the body-weary, perpetually exhausted feeling of generalized malaise. All I want to do is sleep-- or at least lay down and not move. I just feel icky.

I'm trying to decide if I'm going to work tonight or not.
On one hand, I'm not actually sick; I should save my sick days for when I am actually sick; this will be the second time I've called in in four months*; it's a short shift, and I've just had two days off and I have tomorrow off too.
On the other hand, I feel dumb and unfocused and exhausted and pretty lousey, and and if I call in today, they might think that I've been sick for a few days because they haven't seen me**. (It looks bad to call in sick and then turn up at work the next day looking fine.)


EDIT: Never mind. I think I may be in the process of losing the fight against some illness. In under an hour, my cough as progressed from "yeah, I have one" to being bad enough to make me retch and vomit up mucus and the few sips of tea I'd taken, and I'm starting to feel something suspiciously like chills. -_-
Okay, then.



* The first time was after I fell three times on my way to the bus stop and had wrenched my hip and smashed my head and knee on concrete. I was filthy, wet, bleeding, and in pain. Yeah, I skipped work that day.

** Two of my managers had the flu last week-- really nasty flu. My immune system might be trying to deal with exposure to that; I don't know. But no one would be surprised if I called in since there's been so much sickness going around.
lykomancer: (Exhausted- Ed)
Blah.

On and off again flirtation with mid-grade melancholy. Dissatisfaction brightening to apathy briefly before shading back into dissatisfaction, like clouds and sun on a heavily overcast day. Annoyance, gloom. This doesn't have the dignity of true depression, not even mild depression. Depression cuts, its blade so sharp that the first sensation is cold numbness; the pain hits afterward. This feels more like fingering a bruise, only less voluntary and without the masochistic pleasure. There's no storm, no lightning, no thunder, no rain; just clouds and oppressive humidity.

I'm not lonely, precisely. I prefer solitary. Since moving to Owatonna two years ago I have made no new friends at all, and I see the ones I had before I moved less often. (Not that I was particularly sociable even when I could see them more frequently.) I don't mind only having Jinya. That's enough.

Part of me would desperately like to date, although I think this has more with the idea that I want to just to prove that I still can and less to do with any real desire to see someone. I would like to have sex with a real live human being again sometime. That'd be nice. I'd like the assurance that I am still desirable. But other than that...? No. I have no interest in other people. I don't want to met anyone. I don't want to get to know anyone. I don't want to deal with their issues. I don't want to "train" anyone. I don't want to have to explain myself. I don't want to have to defend my boundaries.

I can handle the idea of making a friend, if the opportunity arose. (And I am becoming friend-ish with some of my coworkers.) But getting close enough to "date" someone just makes me feel tired and preemptively irritated.

And I don't feel particularly desirable anymore, which chafes. My hair is strongly grey. I'm pasty white, furry, and overweight. I'm 32, which means I am starting to feel twinges of guilt when I contemplate fucking 20 year olds...guilt, and a little bit like I'm over-reaching. Yes, I could attempt to "fix" the things about myself that bother me: dye my hair, tan, shave, diet and exercise, etc. There are some limitations on those "fixes" (such as the fact that we only have a shower and not a bathtub, and I can't see well enough to shave in the shower while bent double with water pouring in my face to accomplish much of anything other than razor burn...and it's not even worth the effort since I have freaking stubble by the time I get upstairs to my room)...but the real issue is my own stubbornness. I don't want to. I don't need to "fix" my-fucking-self. I don't need to, and by God, I'm not fucking going to.

Some people look at themselves and don't like what they see, so they make these insane or grandiose attempts to correct themselves, make themselves look like what society says they should look like. I look at myself, and when I don't like it, I just make myself deal with it. I'm not sure if that's any more mentally healthy, honestly.

TMI-- blood and genital talk )

Two of my bosses have a horrible flu virus. Here's to hoping I don't have to deal with that, too.
lykomancer: (...And so will I)
I have a little statue of a jackal-Anubis, a black sand hourglass, a bracelet of howlite carved skulls, frankincense and myrrh oil, a peacock feather.

I am apparently building a little death shrine on my desk.

Hm.

Well, that's odd.
lykomancer: (Live Life with no Sorrow)
Things I want another person to do for me:

- Extensive skin-brushing.
- Extensive hair brushing.
- Shave me. Thoroughly.
- Slather my entire body in oil.
- Massage and orgasm optional.

I wonder how long that would all take. I figure I'd be greedy about the first two and demand at least an hour a piece because it would feel so damned good. Nngghh. I figure that's the sort of thing I'd have to pay for-- well, minus the last optional item-- and I'm down with that. (Using standard massage rates, it'd run around $50/hr, which is more than reasonable.)
lykomancer: (Sword Dancer)
I think I weirded out a coworker yesterday. He was talking about some films he has to watch for class. I asked, "What titles?" and he responded, "Ma Vie En Rose or something like that." I then proceeded to squee, "I love that movie!"

I'm pretty sure he thought I was joking, and I so wasn't.


So I've been at OfficeMax for over three months now. Things are going fairly well. I have some issues with management-- occasionally they get it into their heads to tell us to do three different things at the same time-- but it's short-term, minor annoyances. My coworkers are a lively bunch, overall, and I get along well with most of them.


There is one woman that I just roll my eyes at. Kristie's four years older than me and she's... How to put this? Gone full-on adult-mode power wife. I highly doubt anyone would put us in the same age bracket: she's tanned (and with the beginnings of skin damage from tanning) and covered in make-up, with high-lights in her hair-- she looks like a woman trying too hard, in my opinion. Her main hobbies seem to be her family, her daughter's softball, and working.

She seems to really hate my casual intelligence. (That sounds like braggadocio, I know.) She gets snippy and mocking when I talk about learning languages, for example. Another coworker is an immigrant from Somalia (he's lived here for eight years), and he's been half-assedly teaching me Somali-- some casual phrases, that sort of stuff. Last night he was showing me Arabic writing, and Kristie was just, "That's not a word! That's just a bunch of lines and dots. It's a smiley face! That isn't a word!" until I finally wrote a few words in English, pointed at them, as said, "Do you think those lines and dots are words? It's no different."

And she calls herself "old" a lot. Which is primarily annoying because she's only four years older than me. If she's old, I'm old. And I am not old.
She has these strict lines on what she will or will not do based on some arbitrary age limit or something. Sports are okay, but climbing trees is something she's too old for. Things like that. She's just so...stick-in-the-mud. Of course, I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm off my rocker.


Everyone else is fun to work with, and by now I feel comfortable selling and all that. Store manager's already considering promoting me.
lykomancer: (Default)
I love my favorite fictional characters as much as I love real people.

Maybe even more than real people, because real people have real limitations, real flaws, real time constraints, etc., and fictional people don't. Fictional people are always there for me. I can relive all the best moments anytime I want. There's no past, since anything I've read or watched before can be re-experienced.

They aren't great role models. Their storylines don't necessarily impart meaningful messages. They don't come from high-brow literature or classic film.

In fact, I am starting to realize that I will never stop loving my favorite characters, and even if I could force myself to stop, I wouldn't. It's not that I like these characters. I don't enjoy them when I'm reading or watching and engaged in that story and then forget them and move on. No, no. I LOVE these characters. I love in that stupid, giddy fucked-up brain chemistry kind of love.

And I'm a dork in my love. I favor things that remind me of my favorite characters: scents and colors and plants associated with them. Just seeing their name in print makes me grin. I'll struggle through the worst fanfiction or doujinshi just to be rewarded with a few hints of them, a few lines. (Hell, I'll even read or watch stuff that doesn't even have them in it, just closely related characters who might mention them.)

I still feel vaguely ashamed of this even as I make this public post. This is probably my biggest embarrassment, actually.

I can talk about sex and porn without batting an eyelash. I can dissect as much of my own emotional and psychological state as one is capable of upon one's self. I have no qualms talking religion or politics. I admit to liking furry art.

But man, not fangirling. I can't. I cannot do it around other people.

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